of both, and with the certain
result of provoking the hostility of each. He himself says very little
of the reception he met; but we know from other sources how cordial and
even deferential it was. He was not a man, indeed, to enjoy being
lionized, to be set up, as he expressed it, at a dinner-table as a piece
of luxury, like strawberries in February or peaches in April. But he was
in a capital where attention is always paid to ability, though rarely
with noisy demonstration. He received his full share of it. Without
mentioning numerous other evidences, the conspicuous position he held is
evident from the way Scott speaks of him in his diary. He mentions
meeting him one evening at the Princess Galitzin's in November, 1826.
"Cooper was there," said he, "so the Scotch and American lions took the
field together."

But of all the countries in which he resided he grew to be fondest of
Italy. This was partly due to the fact that there he could indulge to
the full extent two passions that had come to be a part of his
nature--the love of fine skies, and of beautiful scenery. His feelings
in regard to this country and to France he expressed on one occasion
with a courtliness that was wholly free from the insincerity of the
courtier's art. In November, 1830, shortly after his return to Paris
from Germany, he was presented to the royal family. The Queen of Louis
Philippe, who was the daughter of Ferdinand I., of the Two (p. 070)
Sicilies, asked him of all the lands visited by him which he most
preferred. "That in which your majesty was born," was the reply, "for
its nature, and that in which your majesty reigns for its society."
There was not in this the slightest compliment, if by compliment
anything is meant inconsistent with the severest truth. "Switzerland,"
he said afterward, "is the country to astonish and sometimes to delight;
but Italy is the land to love." During the nearly two years he remained
there, its scenery, its climate, its recollections, and also its people,
were constantly gaining a hold upon his heart. No country did he ever
leave with so much regret; and when he came to take his final departure,
his feelings were such as are experienced by him who is on the point of
bidding farewell to a much-loved home. When he passed into the valley of
the Adige on his journey to the Tyrol, in 1830, he reversed the usual
practice of the traveler who has his eyes fixed only on what is to come.
He turned around to cast